Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 541 The True Origin of the Pym Particles (Second Update)

Hank Pym was uninterested in any of Salomon's visions; he was one of the few who couldn't be swayed by Salomon's charismatic speeches. This was thanks to his stubborn and volatile temper. In his own words, he had already dedicated himself to human peace, and no one could ask him to do more. When Salomon revealed that he had accepted the legacy of S.H.I.E.L.D. and told him the story of the Brotherhood of the Shield, the eccentric old man merely snorted coldly and remained silent, as if the fantastical tale set in 2620 BC was nothing more than a story to him, and that this mad young man who had come knocking on his door should get his head checked out.

There are still people who treat science like magic these days. How can such people get into Oxford University?

"Kosmos, that's the source of the Pym Particle's power." Seeing the old man pull back the bolt, Salomon leaned casually against the doorframe, looking completely nonchalant. "I bet you don't understand why those subatomic particles allow you to 'violate' the square-cubic law." Salomon made a quotation mark gesture. This law is a mathematical principle describing proportions, widely used in engineering and bioengineering. Galileo first described it in *Galileo's Two New Sciences*: when an object undergoes a proportional increase in size, its volume increases cubically and its surface area increases squarely.

The Pym particle not only violates statics, but also physiology, at least it appears to.

"I know!" Dr. Pym seemed enraged. "I know! I invented the Pym Particles!"

"You simply collected and separated those subatomic particles, Dr. Pym." Salomon remained nonchalant. "Energy is always conserved. When you change the size of your body, the extra or less energy/matter is diverted into a dimension called Cosmos, and that dimension is the source of those subatomic particles."

Dr. Pym slowed his movements. He hadn't intended to fire the already damp bullet, nor could he bear to waste the other bullets that had accompanied him through the war on Salomon.

"It's a small place, related to the quantum realm and fractal cosmology. I think you're familiar with that theory. In that dimension, there's a type of pollen that can change the size of objects, and Pym particles are the product of diffusion during displacement in that dimension," Salomon said. "You've indeed figured out how to use Pym particles, but I think you wouldn't mind knowing a little more about your own creation?"

Dr. Pym remained silent. He looked at Salomon through his old-fashioned glasses. "How do you know all this?"

“I went back to the library and flipped through some books, and then I found a description of the Kosmos dimension.” Salomon straightened his back, but then relaxed again, having accidentally bumped his forehead against the doorframe. “It’s an unremarkable alternate dimension,” he said. “There are no magical entities, just some small insect races. You might think the idea of ​​controlling ants comes from yourself, but thanks to the influence of Kosmos pollen, you’d use other insects even if you didn’t use ants. At least they’re green, because Kosmosians are green.”

"Where did you get this knowledge? It certainly wasn't from Bodleian; I've seen Bodleian's collection!"

“Not Bodleian, but my family library,” Salomon said calmly. “We can make an exchange, Dr. Pym. It’s a mutually beneficial process. I think I have what you need, and I need your help to fight against all sorts of messy enemies from across the universe.”

"Just this once," Dr. Pym said in a deep voice, as if he had forgotten who had last urged Salomon to exchange knowledge about time-travel suits, completely disregarding the fact that Salomon was still in London. He had even called Salomon's tutors to tell them that Salomon didn't need to waste time on his undergraduate studies. Salomon nodded with a smile.

Although Dr. Pym always says it only happens once, there's always a next time, and then a next time after that.

This person is just saying one thing and meaning another.

"Now I can at least have a cup of tea, right?" he said with a smile. "I don't believe there's only instant coffee here."

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"Darling, I smell a woman on you. A redhead, no less." Bayonetta circled Salomon a few times, drawing her conclusion with ease. She tossed aside her long, black hair that cascaded over her shoulder, a few strands still clinging to her pale neck. Like Joan of Arc, her face was covered in sweat, and a closer look revealed the alluring scent of her hormones—a perfume that would be deadly to Salomon. Clearly, the witches, currently idle at home, were doing aerobics and yoga on television.

"And it's curly hair." The witch put one hand on her hip, raised her chin, and looked arrogant. She wore a dark black sports bodysuit, revealing her alluring abs and faintly visible abdominal muscles. Salomon was extremely infatuated with the witch, especially her long legs and waist—the witch had incredibly strong abdominal muscles, and if it weren't for the physical enhancement provided by the Holy Mark, Salomon might have had his spine crushed by her.

"You should be able to smell the old man. You wouldn't believe how annoying my newly hired scientific advisor is. He's an incredibly stubborn old man!" he complained indignantly, without a trace of panic. Nothing had happened between him and Lorelei; everything had been professionally psychologically verified (by himself), with no emotional or lustful elements involved, and nothing bad had occurred. Work was work, and life was life; he kept them very separate.

"Hank Pym always thinks he's right and everyone else is wrong. He's tried to punch me several times!"

"uh-huh?"

Salomon opened his arms, stepped forward, and embraced the witch's slender waist, greedily burying his head in Bayonetta's neck, inhaling her fragrance. This intense desire compelled him to kiss Bayonetta's elegant, delicate neck. She effortlessly extinguished the raging fire within Salomon, transforming it into a soft, comfortable sofa and blanket, instantly relaxing him. Then, he felt a soft, rapidly flying object slam into the back of his head.

Bayonetta let out a mocking chuckle. Salomon felt like today was the day of suffering for the back of his head.

Joan of Arc stared at them sullenly. "The bed's over there," she said, pointing to the bedroom with an angry expression. "You can close the door or not, it's not like you can hide it from me when you're doing that kind of thing!"

"Are you angry because we didn't invite you, Joan of Arc?" Bayonetta said with a smile.

"No, I'm angry because you disturbed my sleep!"

"Oh? And who is it that's always sneaking glances and making those fidgety gestures?"

"Celessa!" Joan of Arc stood up from the yoga mat, her face flushed, and stomped her feet angrily. She immediately realized how childish her actions were. Seeing Salomon suppressing a smile, she was furious and pulled two gray magic pistols from her long white hair.

"How dare you mock me, Salomon!"

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(End of this chapter)